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them. “Yes,” she said with a sigh, “I believe you.” Then glancing out of the window at the peaceful garden, she gave a shudder. She’d been to London and seen the results of the bombing there to know the devastation is caused – and the deaths and injuries. “Don’t think that I came to France for the fun of it. I really believed you needed the information that was in that pouch – and I couldn’t think of any other way of making sure you got it.”
    Suddenly he bent forward and kissed her cheek. “Yes, it was important. It doesn’t improve the chances of Mulberry being a success. But it will help my job of setting it up here. So I do thank you for bringing it. But now it is your safety that bothers me . . . I don’t know what to do with you. Deception is vital – the Germans mustn’t know what we are planning. You know enough to assist the enemy in that if they get to know about the invasion being here, they will bring down reinforcements to this area and throw us off the beaches when we try and land. You are a potential risk to the whole operation.”
    Vera realised she had helped him by delivering the pouch but unwittingly she’d added to his worries too. What could she say that would make him forget her?
    “Listen,” she said, “I am one person. You have hundreds to think about. Get on with your job as if I am not here. I know you have a lot to do. Please try and forget I am here. I promise you I will lie low.”
    He stood up and went to the window looking out at the sky as if he expected it to be filled with aircraft dropping parachutes - or seeing heavy bombers droning overhead. “Yes, I still have a lot to do. I must go now. The invasion may take place any day.”
    She stood too and went over to him, slipping her arm around his waist until he turned and held her tight. “Promise to look after yourself,” he said in a cracked voice, and kissing her forehead before releasing her he strode out of the house.
    Feeling devastated she heard his footsteps fade away.
    She went back and sat down at the table. Alone, and for the first time feeling certain she might never see him again. The fear of being killed or injured or captured by the Gestapo - thoughts such as these raced through her mind.
    What would the future bring for them both?
    And the other people using the house?

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
    AFTER the shock of knowing the dangers that lurked around her, Vera realised her next problem was where to hide. Unlike the British who had built underground shelters, the French in the area were not expecting to be attacked and the house only had a wine cellar.
    But did she fancy waiting in a damp cellar for hours – perhaps days – for danger to come? She daren’t go far away from the house, no further than the walled garden anyway. It was not only her safety she had to think of. It was all the people using the house who might be shot, or captured, if she was caught.
    So her next concern was boredom. Sitting waiting to be bombed, or raided by the Germans, was a dreadful feeling as the long hours dragged by. Everyone who came to the house seemed to be busy and Vera longed to have something useful to do. She was used to working - not sitting about being idle.
    Should she offer to clean the house or wash their clothes - or feed the hens that were clucking around the garden?
    Of course, she smiled. She could cook a meal for them! She was a well-qualified Cordon Bleu chef – well used to French cooking. And her war service was cooking hundreds of meals using stringent wartime food rations – so she was also well able to make do with what was available.
    It lightened her mood to have something positive – and useful to do. The men and women risking their lives to liberate France needed good sustenance to keep them healthy and able to do their work. And all they seemed to have was endless cups of coffee and bread someone fetched from the bakery once or twice a day.
    Standing in the beautiful